A Mother's Regrets
by the color is blinding
Summary: Parenting: it's not easy. We all mess up, but there is one person who wins the prize. Mrs. Puckett, however good her intentions were, was not very good at parenting at all. This is what she has to say, her justifications. These are a mother's regrets.


**A Mother's Regrets**

**Created By: The Color is Blinding**

**A/N: I feel sorry for her. I honestly believe that she tried, so this is what resulted out of a moment of inspiration. The rest of it just came. :) This is my tribute to a figure we never really see, but hear about. This one is for you, Mrs. Puckett.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly, everyone would be dead. /: Hmm. Am I allowed to say that? **

I tried to be a good mother. I tried to do what I thought I was supposed to do. I tried to be "hip" and "cool" and everything a girl would want in a mother. I tried to become friends with my daughters. Instead, one left me, the other reluctantly stayed. So I tried to be her best friend. I tried to be like she was.

I dated a few guys, drank a bit, and asked her to help me try on bikinis—I was just trying to do as a teen girl would do, so I would seem more like a friend than a mother. Like I said, I was never good at this parenting stuff. My plan backfired, so instead of becoming her closest companion, my daughter avoided me, and became detached from me.

I had genuinely **tried** to be a good mother, but as you can plainly see it didn't work out as I had originally planned. That tends to happen a lot with me.

Speaking of ruined plans, I had intended to not get divorced, to not live in Seattle, to not let my family break apart, to not become known as a drunk, to not date a new person every other week, to not be up to my shoulders in debt, to not have a violent daughter, to not lose contact with my parents, and most certainly to not to have become known as the horrible mother I most certainly am. I didn't want any of that. What I wanted was to live in a clean, orderly, white-picket fenced house with perhaps a puppy, and kids, and have laughter always coming out of the windows, with the smell of freshly baked bread wafting throughout the bright and cheery rooms. That's what I wanted. I didn't want this. I didn't want it.

But, I suppose that this **is** my fault, in a weird, roundabout way that makes no logical sense. I blame myself for my troubles and my problems. And I blame myself for my daughter's troubles and problems. If I had been a better mother, I suppose that I wouldn't even be talking to you right now. Or if I still happened to be, it would be about what to do to become a great mother.

Yes, I know. I could have tried a bit harder, I could have read some books on good parenting, and I could have put in a bit more effort on my part. But this was the best that **I **could do, and was purely me. It wasn't what some other person wanted me to do, it was what I thought was best for my family: my dismembered, strange, slightly insane family.

I regret not putting my daughters in extracurricular activities, but I had figured that if they wanted to do something, they would just ask. That they would come up to me and tell me that this was something they wanted to do.

I regret not challenging my daughter in school. She could have gone so far, and I know that when she's at home she is trying to learn more. She brings home all sorts of library books, and spends her lonely nights reading them.

I regret not being there for my daughters. When they wanted to do something, I forced them to go shopping with me, in a feeble attempt to have mother-daughter bonding time. It never worked out, and always ended with me going out to try and forget what I had done earlier.

I regret so many things I have done, but I can still tell you that I tried my hardest. I tried to be the best I could be, and I am so proud of my two beautiful daughters, who struggle to find their place in this world, who try to be accepted as members of this society, who smile through the tears, and who push forward even when they know they will fall.

I am so proud of my children. I wish that I could be proud of myself, for making them who they are today, but I know that it is my fault that they almost didn't become those people. Everything that has gone wrong in their lives is ultimately my fault, a consequence of my horrible parenting. But I had tried.

I had tried my hardest, and I just hope that my daughters will forgive me.

I just hope that the thought counts.

**And that's it! :) What did you think? Please tell me your thoughts, they mean a lot! It would make my day a billion times better if you reviewed! **

**-TCiB **


End file.
